How to Save a Life
by how I live now
Summary: Tom Riddle. The guy we love to hate. But what happens if we could change how he was? Change the past so there is no Lord Voldemort. Join Joana as she sets out to complete a task she knows nothing about.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- This is your life

It was one o'clock in the morning when I heard noises downstairs. Then the thud of footfalls on carpeted steps. Then a bossy voice hissing, "Ronald! We don't want to wake anyone up but her!" Then the creak of my bedroom door.

Three oh so familiar faces stood there. Three faces that I had dreamt about meeting ever since the age of five. The girl with bushy brown hair smiled at me.

"I know this must be a shock, and I'm sorry we haven't given you any time to get used to it but we need you to help us." She held out her hand. I looked at it, puzzled.

"Do you mind?" I asked, stupidly. The girl smiled and ushered the boys out of the room. I slipped out of bed and found my dressing gown on a chair. I pulled it on, as if in a dream. Because that was obviously what I was in: a dream. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger hadn't just come into my bedroom and asked for my help.

I went out onto the landing, my stuffed dog still clutched under my arm.

"Nice dog, what's its name?" asked Ron.

"Marvin," I replied sleepily. I held out my hand to Hermione again. "Take me wherever, then." She took it and, along with Harry and Ron, she turned on the spot and we disappeared.

I didn't notice the crushing darkness, the suffocating sensation or the cold. All I knew was that when my feet slammed to the ground, I had to be dreaming because this was the Ministry of Magic. Not the one from the films, but the one I'd always imagined in my head.

"Where are we going?" I asked. "Department of Magical Games and Sport? The Hall of Prophecy? Somehow, I suspect the latter," I yawned. Harry raised one eyebrow.

"She's taking this rather well," he told Hermione. "Are you sure she doesn't think it's just a dream?"

I groaned, and the other three's heads turned.

"I was hoping you weren't gonna say that. I really was." My eyes turned to the floor. Suddenly, I wasn't tired anymore. "Go on then. Tell me it's not."

"Not what?" asked Ron, but Hermione cut him off.

"We'll explain when we get to the Hall of Prophecy, now come on." And she dragged me over to the golden elevators. She pushed the button for the Department of Mysteries, and I sighed. Holding Marvin closer, I asked, "Why'd you choose me?"

Hermione smiled but said nothing. The golden grilles slid open, and a cool female voice said, "Department of Mysteries." Taking my hand again, Hermione pulled down the corridor and through the door at the end. Tugging open the heavy black door, she seemingly ignored the round room

I then found myself in the 'fated' Hall of Prophecy. The realism of it all was sinking in. I wasn't dreaming. I was awake and living and this was now. An idiotic smile spread across my face, and all of a sudden, we had stopped.

"Check this label, and see if it's you it's talking about," said Hermione. She was pointing somewhere above my head. Cocking it to one side, I looked up. Then I stood on tipee-toes. Then my cheeks went red.

"I… erm… can't actually see it." I said, clasping my hands behind my back and facing the floor. Ron grinned.

"It's not funny! Just become some of us are more vertically challenged than others." I scowled at him, crossing my arms. Ron looked slightly offended.

"Are you saying I'm too tall?" he asked. I raised one eyebrow. "Alright then, point taken. Come on then," he said, and pulled me up onto his shoulders with surprising strength and now I could see the faded yellow label that was peeling off the towering shelf.

I ignored the date and my own name; my eyes had been drawn the last line of the sticker. On it was another name. A name that almost made my eyes pop out of their sockets.

"T-Tom Marvolo _Riddle_!" I exclaimed. "Him! An-and me! On the same prophecy!"

"So it's you then?" Hermione called up to me. "On the prophecy?"

"Yeah, it's me." I breathed

"Good! Take it down then!" I plucked the prophecy off its stand. It felt strangely warm in my hand. Ron lowered me to the ground.

"How do I set it off?" I asked.

"You've got to break it open, but don't do it here. Come on, we'll take you home." Hermione murmured, smiling warmly. But I didn't feel any better.

I let myself get dragged along the corridors and into the lift again, but I took in none of it. _Him _and _me_? Why? Before I knew what was happening, we had reached the Atrium. This time, Ron took hold of my hand. I stared up at him, trying to convey everything I was feeling in a single look, but he only smiled. Then I remembered: 'Emotional range of a teaspoon' and gave up. We turned on the spot and vanished. The suffocating darkness threatened to consume me, but I didn't care. Not while the memory of the label burned in my mind.

We appeared in my back yard and just stood there for a while. But I knew it had to be done. The orb slipped from my fingers, and crashed on the ground. I didn't see who was making the prophecy; I didn't care. I only heard the words.

"**A girl who has deserted shall return.**

**She shall be the saviour for many lives.**

**She shall become an infant and go to him.**

**Become an orphan like him.**

**She shall become the only one he ever loved.**

**The paths of history shall change."**

Silence spread around us again. Nothing could be heard except for the low whisper of wind in the trees. Eventually, I spoke.

"What does it mean?" I asked quietly. The two boys looked towards Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

"'A girl who has deserted shall return.'" She quoted. "That's you. You left the way of Harry Potter between the sixth and seventh books." My cheeks blushed. She was right, but I didn't want to admit it.

"'She shall be the saviour for many lives.' That line's obvious. After that it gets harder. 'She shall become an infant and go to him. Become an orphan like him.' I think that's supposed to mean that you'll become a baby again, go back in time and live in his orphanage with him. And if all goes to plan, you'll be the only one he ever loved. If all goes to plan, there will be no Lord Voldemort."

Harry looked up. "So… we could have everyone back? Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Hedwig… My parents…" Hermione nodded.

"But wait! You're all saying this like I've agreed to it! I mean, I have a life here too. I have friends, family and no offence but you… You're just characters from a book! And yeah, I cried for you, I stayed up all night reading about you but in the end, that's all you are. I'm sorry." I cried.

"You think we don't know that?" asked Harry. "You've got a life, and we're gonna let you live. As much as you want. Just call our names when you're ready." Then he added, "And did you ever wonder why the idea came into J.K Rowling's head fully formed?"

My jaw dropped, and Harry smiled.

"But how am I going to 'Become an infant'?" I asked.

"We're just going to use an aging potion. And a Time Turner to get you there. But the potion will have to be _extremely _strong. It's going to be hard, and it'll take possibly years to make." Hermione explained.

"Fine by me," I muttered. "Is that all? Only I'm quite tired." I looked right into her eyes. Hermione gulped like fish, and then shook her head.

"No wait; what about Hogwarts?" said Ron. "He'll go there because he's a wizard, but she's not magic." I glared at him.

Surprisingly, it was Harry that had the answer. "I've been doing some research about you," he told me. "It was hard, but I found out so much. Look in your pocket." I did, and gasped.

In my dressing gown pocket was a wand. I looked at Harry.

"Ginny's. She let me borrow it so you could Apparate. Which you could do. That means you have magical blood in you." He was getting very excited and was having trouble keeping his voice steady. "The magical genes in you may be dormant at the moment, but in another life the might be active. So in your next life you'll be a witch. And once you have fulfilled the prophecy, you'll be reborn." Harry took a deep breath. "You'll still be a witch and as there be no Voldemort, then my parents will live on."

The penny dropped. "Y-you mean- I'll be your… you'll be my…Really?" I asked, a grin spreading on my face. Harry nodded, and opened his arms for a hug. I leapt into them, laughing. Hermione smiled, and pulled Ron back into the shadows.

"Oh Harry!" I breathed. But suddenly I became serious, pulling away from him. "But from what you're saying, I'll have, what, three lives? How's that work out?"

"Well, strictly speaking, it's only two lives you get. One of them is used up fulfilling a prophecy, so them Powers What Be give you another go." He smiled a wonky smile. "So I found this website… or something like that… and I typed in 'What if Lily and James Potter were still alive?' and I think it's magically enhanced, because your name, photo and all this information came up."

My eyes filled with tears. "So this life, this one I'm living now, is just nothing. This isn't really who I am. I'm so-and-so Potter. I'm not real." Hot tears fell down my face. Ron rushed over and scooped me up.

"Of course it's real. This you and no prophecy can change that. You'll be under another name and you won't remember now at all. Ok?" he asked. "You are never going to live this life again. This is your life." I nodded, my eyes full of tears. Ron smiled and put me down.

"Goodbye," I whispered, handing back Ginny's wand. Giving me sad smiles, the three of them Apparated. I blinked once, then went back inside. After all, there are some things that are better left unsaid.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Ready

And so I lived my life. Day after day. I finished school, went into university, got married and had three children: twins Fred and George and little Luna. I got a job running my own veterinary surgery. All was well. I was happy; so happy. I wasn't ready, not yet. I let myself almost forget about the prophecy, as if three people had never come to visit in the dead of night. I forget their names, their lives, everything. I picked up a battered old copy of Harry Potter every now and again, but that was it. They were characters.

My life went on perfectly until I was sixty nine. That's when tragedy struck. My husband had gone out to get our forty-ninth wedding anniversary present. He was coming home on the bus when it happened. The doctors said it had been quick, that he felt no pain. The heart attack had made sure of that. He was happy when he died. But I wasn't. As soon as they told me, I knew I'd never be happy again.

The funeral was a private affair; only our family, although there was a fair number of them by now. I stood by his grave, a solitary tear in my eye. Fred and George came over, followed by Luna. She could always make me smile, in her vacant, dreamy way. But not today. My twins failed to raise the edges of my lips as well, and they never stopped smiling. So brave they were, my boys.

I went over to my grandchildren, and said goodbye to all nine of them. Cedric, Teddy and Harmony. Lily, James, Lavender and Dean. Susie and Seamus, even his wife, Andromeda and their little girl, Fleur. I waved to my great-grandchild-to-be, Viktor and walked over to the graveyard's gate and whispered three names.

They came without a sound; just appeared out of thin air. The girl gave me a small bottle full of colourless liquid, which I drank in one. I closed my eyes, collapsed into the red-headed boy's arms, and knew no more.

-

My lungs needed air, desperately. And, instinctively, I knew there was only one way to get it. I cried, and was distinctly aware of someone, a woman, leaning over me, a beautiful golden pendant in one hand. She turned a dial on the pendant, and it clicked gently and continuously, until the whole world went onto rewind.

I had only been alive for a matter of minutes, so didn't know if this was normal or not. Everything was moving incredibly fast: the graves were becoming fewer; people were zooming in and out of focus. And then, as soon as it had started, it had stopped.

The woman holding me, who I assumed was my mother, pulled her cloak further around herself, and fled from the graveyard. She hurried down many cobbled streets until she came to a large building, its red bricks daubed in midnight shadows.

My mother pushed open the door and went down a dark corridor into a room that was flooded with light. I stopped crying instantly. A woman with an extremely red face was fussing over another baby with dark eyes and hair and a very pale woman spoke from a bed in the corner.

"He looks just like his father…" Her voice was so frail, as if a gust of wind would just blow her away. "He shall be called Tom Marvolo Riddle. His father and grandfather. They would be proud…" Her voice faded into nothingness.

My mother coughed, and the large, red-faced woman spun round to look at her.

"Yes? What is it? What do you want?" Her voice was urgent and slightly harassed. My mother stepped back a step.

"I can't do it. I can't! There's no way to look after her. Her father died and took the money with him. I can't look after her!" My mother wailed. The red-faced woman's expression softened.

"These things happen. No-one blames you, my dear. Put the girl down in the cot, next to the boy. How old is she?"

"Fifteen minutes old, or there about." The red-faced woman looked at my mother suspiciously. "You don't look it," she said. My mother looked over the woman's shoulder to Tom's mother.

"I have my ways…" I hadn't a clue what she meant, but Tom's mother seemed to understand. In fact, she seemed to be happy about.

"Now I can go on without worry… Please," she said to the red-faced lady. "Please, make sure these two stay together. The other children may find them different but make sure they are never separated. Please." Her voice way barely more than a whisper. "I wish to hold my son one last time." Tom was handed to her, no questions asked.

She gazed down at him hungrily, as if trying to look a life-time's at him, all in the space of a minute. She pushed his wavy black hair out of his big, dark eyes. Her hand trembled as she did so, and she could only just manage the simple movement.

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts Hoggywarty Hogwarts, teach us something please_," she sang, her voice a mere breath away from death. "_Whether we are old and bald_… _Or young with_…"

"Scabby knees." My mother finished, but Tom's mother did not hear her. Even though there was so much new life in this room, death had still, mercilessly, struck.

-

My mother left me at an orphanage in London on a cold night in 1925. She left me with a boy called Tom Marvolo Riddle, and she told the red-faced woman that I was to be named Joanna Potter. Tom and I were kept together, and we soon understood that we were alone. The other children didn't like being around us and we didn't know why. I _tried_ to be friendly, but Tom stayed away. Eventually, I copied him, and we knew that we were meant to have no-one but each other.

The orphanage was run by the red-faced woman, who everyone called Sister. When she had first opened the orphanage, she had wanted people to think she was a respectful Catholic. Now she just used it to scare the children into behaving.

It was obvious that the Sister hated us. She sneered at us, ignored us, and made our lives hell. But Tom and I, we didn't mind. As long as we had each other, we were always going to be alright.

But the Sister kept true to her word. Even though it was against the rules, as we were the two people she least wanted to break them for, Tom and I were allowed to sleep in the same room. Tom said she agreed because he had made her. I said it was because she, like so many others, was scared of us.

Prospective parents came and went; couples that were looking for sweet, little children to adopt. It was well known amongst the children of the orphanage that there was a certain age when you became 'undesirable'. Tom and I had long since passed that age, and now eyes only lingered on Tom for a second, before seeing me and my hand clutched in Tom's. Then they turned away.

We began to notice the change in ourselves as well. Chubby, infant cheeks had become well-defined jaw bone; sweet clusters of freckles had become weird-looking and out of place. But nothing prepared us for the change that occurred on our seventh birthday.

It was a cold morning on the 2nd of September, 1932. I awoke with the scratchy blankets of worn sheets of my bed linen rubbing against my thin regulation night dress. I kept my eyes closed for a moment, still within the warmness and tranquillity of the world between sleep and wake.

"Morning, Tom," I whispered. The dark hair, black eyed boy in the bed next to mine stirred gently.

"Happy birthday," he murmured sleepily back. He stretched, and sat up. His eyes wandered over to me, and he did a double take. I looked at him questioningly.

"Y-your hair!" He gasped. "It-it's blonde!"

"Shh! Not so loud! It's only six o'clock, you'll wake Sister," I murmured. "And besides, it can't be blonde. My hair is russet red. You said so yourself…But none the less, I got up and went over to the mirror. Just as I had expected, my hair was-

Blonde. I almost screamed. Even in the half-light of dawn, it was clearly visible. Platinum blonde hair, tied back in a tight French plait.

"Tom! What am I going to do? I can't go down to breakfast like this!" I hissed. I started to wring my hands with anxiety.

"Well, you could just change back," Tom said, timidly. He was right to be so.

"_Change back_!" I hissed, in a voice that would soon only be audible to bats. "And how the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?" Living in the orphanage how given me a quick temper- and taught me a wide vocabulary of swear words.

Tom continued, if a little put off by my outburst. "You changed there, didn't you? Surely you can change back." I wasn't sure, but Tom seemed to grit his teeth slightly, as though bracing himself for my next onslaught.

So I decided to surprise him. "Ok then," I said brightly, "I will try. But only because you want me to," I added at Tom's confused look.

I took one last look at the blonde version of me, before closing my eyes and picturing my original appearance. I concentrated so hard- harder than I had done in any previous maths test- my brain felt like it was about to explode; my mind like it was going to melt when suddenly-

"Yes! You did it!" I opened my eyes (which were now cherry-coloured) and ran a hand through my dark red hair. My fingertips then brushed the freckles that I had lost and then found…

"_She's a Metamorphagus!" Hermione laughed. "Didn't see that coming."_

_Ron wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head, smiling gently. "Never would have expected that of you," he teased. Hermione hit him playfully on the arm. _

_Harry rolled his eyes. He knew he should be used to his friends doing this by now, but still… He shook himself, and turned to the job in hand._

"_Now they're seven years old, their magical powers can be revealed. After that, after they realise they are different from the other children, we have to provide temptation for Voldemort."_

"_Tom." Hermione said. "His name is Tom."_

"_Tom, Voldemort, is there really any difference? They're the same person inside."_

"_Harry, if you're going to keep thinking like that, then all of this," Hermione gestured around the room at the pages of hand-written research piled high in untidy stacks, "all the time we've spent doing this, will all be for nothing. The whole point is to stop Voldemort. If you can't stop thinking of Tom as him, then what's the point? You've got to start trusting him, Harry."_

"_I can't!" Harry yelled. "You've seen what he's done to everything! He wrecked my life, your life, everyone's! And now I gone and put my sister right in the middle in the middle of a war she was never supposed to have seen! He could kill if this doesn't go right!" Harry hadn't noticed at the time, but he was roaring in Hermione face, and she looked petrified._

"_Get away from her! It's not her fault," said Ron. "Tom and You Know Who are different, and if you can't think like that, then it might jeopardise the mission. Accept that, or leave. Those are your choices."_

"_Fine," said Harry, turning away from his friends. "Let's get back to work…_

Tom and I were left alone on our table at breakfast, just like every morning. When Sister came over to give us our food (toast like cardboard, covered in a thin layer of jam that had fury specks of white floating in it), she didn't look at us as she threw two plates onto the table, before moving on.

"Thank you, Sister, so nice of you to wish us a happy birthday. Jo and I very much appreciate it. Yes, it's not often a child turns seven." Tom said after she'd gone. I giggled. Tom always said something to make me feel better. He knew when I needed cheering up, and could always make me laugh.

After breakfast, it was time to hand out the post. Tom and I never received anything; we didn't know anyone to get anything from. Which was why I almost fainted with shock when two packages were placed on our table.

"I'm sorry," said Sister, even though she obviously wasn't, "but they were badly wrapped, and I'm not sure who each parcel was meant for. But I'm sure you won't mind." She turned her nose up, and bustled off to the next table.

Tom grinned at me. "What do you suppose they are?"

"I don't know, but I think we should open them upstairs," I said, so we grabbed the packages. And sprinted up to our room.


	3. Chapter 3

AN/ This chapter is dedicated to silverbirch, for being my first reviewer on this story

**AN/ This chapter is dedicated to silverbirch, for being my first reviewer on this story. Thankees! Enjoy!! :D**

_After breakfast, it was time to hand out the post. Tom and I never received anything; we didn't know anyone to get anything from. Which was why I almost fainted with shock when two packages were placed on our table. _

"_I'm sorry," said Sister, even though she obviously wasn't, "but they were badly wrapped, and I'm not sure who each parcel was meant for. But I'm sure you won't mind." She turned her nose up, and bustled off to the next table._

_Tom grinned at me. "What do you suppose they are?"_

"_I don't know, but I think we should open them upstairs," I said, so we grabbed the packages. And sprinted up to our room._

I flopped straight onto my bed, while Tom shut the door. He did it with care, and sat down softly on his sheets, placing his package gently next to him. For a while, he stared at it, lovingly, then looked up at me.

"Go on, you first."

I stifled a giggle. Tom was scared of opening his present. I shook my head, and began to tear open the brown paper. But my fingers were stuck. "Why do I have to go first?" I asked.

"Because I'm older, and you have to do what I say," Tom replied.

"We don't _know_ who's older, silly! We were born within seconds of each other, that's what Sister said. And besides, if you were older, you'd have to go first…" I said, trailing off toward the end.

"Hmm. Why do we open them together? It's special, our first birthday presents, and we need to _share_ it. It feels right, don't it?"

"Doesn't," I corrected him, "but you're right. On three, then?" We both slid our fingers under a loose bit of paper. Biting my lip, I joined Tom on the count down.

Three… My fingers trembled slightly, which I told myself was silly, it was only a present after all, the other children in the orphanage got them for their birthdays all the time…

Two… But Tom and I, we weren't like other children, and my little fiasco this morning had proved it. And we didn't know anyone who to send us present, anyway…

One… I slit open the paper and gasped. A beautiful wave of shimmering green material slipped out of the package and onto the floor. It lay there, at little pool of perfectness, and for a while it was all I could not to pass out for its splendor. Then awe turned into want and greed and longing, _need_ for something this fine to call my own, something I had been starved from my whole life. I picked it up and hungrily caressed the flawless fabric against my check.

I noticed it was a scarf, woven from wool so fine it could not be of this earth. Surely only the Gods have items of this purity. I tenderly wrapped it round my neck, shuddering as it touched my skin. I felt as though a part of me had been awakened, and it strangely felt like the _real _me, the part of my being that had been oppressed up until now. Electricity surged to my finger tips, and left me feeling light-headed and dizzy.

"It's amazing," I heard Tom whisper next to me. With a jolt, I realized I had completely forgotten he was in the room with me. Looking over at him, I saw he had a scarf like mine, only his was red, and had little gold strips adorned to the ends. It was magnificent, but didn't hold the same charm as mine; it didn't _shine_.

At least, not to me.

"Happy birthday," I said, smiling. Tom looked up, wonder etched across his suddenly child-like face. He could only grin in return.

-

For a while, Tom and I merely discussed each other's gifts and how beautiful they were but we soon got onto the topic of who had sent them.

"It couldn't have been any of _my _relatives," I said, "they're all dead."

"It might have been my father… he's still alive, I heard."

"But he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you when he left your mother out for Death."

"True…"

"And they are of such quality… No human could've made them."

"What're you saying?" asked Tom, excitement lighting up his face.

"_Magic_." I whispered. It may have just been my imagination, but the lamps seemed to flicker gently, as if a sudden surge of energy had run through them. Tom noticed it too, and shivered slightly. An idea hit me. If the scarves were magic, and they had found their way to us, then maybe…

But what should I do? Did I have to say a magic word? Do a dance? Wave my hand? In the end, I decided against all of those. I simply concentrated as hard as I could on what I wanted. I imagined the lamp turning on, imagined the spark of light that normally brought the lamp to life coming from my mind and exploding into existence.

I felt the power building up in my head, throbbing down into my veins like some kind of life force pushing through my blood. Then, suddenly, the lamp went on. It cast a soft yellow glow across the room causing Tom to look at it oddly.

"Did you… But you can't have… You didn't move… Unless… Oh my God!" His eyes widened, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish. "You _did_ do it! Using magic!"

I nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. "At least, I think I did…"

"This is amazing! Joana, this is… is huge! We're magic!"

"Well, _I'm_ magic," I said indignantly. Tom waved his hand impatiently, as if these were mere details to him.

"Don't you remember what Sister said? How your mother didn't look as though she'd just had a baby? And how my mother sang that song before she died, and your mother was the only one who knew what it meant? Well, maybe it was some secret special magician's song that only wizards and witches know!"

"Tom… I'm not sure… Wizards and witches… God says magic is bad, it's work of the devil, Tom," I said, scared.

"Joana, is _this_ bad?" Tom asked, weaving his fingers into his scarf and waving it in my face. "You turned on a lamp. That's hardly evil, is it?"

"I suppose not," I said, biting my lip, still not sure. But then I remembered what had happened this morning and I became fearful again. The Devil had gotten inside of me and changed my appearance! What if something worse had occurred? What if I'd become possessed? I told Tom my fears, my voice becoming high-pitched and stuttery. A few singular tears fell down onto my freckled cheeks.

"Jo, it's all right. Come here," he said, pulling me into a tight hug. "There's no need to be scared. To be honest, I'm worried, too. But then I remember how amazing this could be and I forgot all that. This could be our ticket out of this hell! We're better than everyone here! We could have them serving us, if we wanted!"

"Yeah…" I said, and even though I was yet to be convinced of his domination idea, I sniffed, wiped my eyes and smiled "We _are_ better than them, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are. Now," said Tom, letting go of me and standing up off the bed. "Let's see if you can alter your looks again!" For the next hour, Tom and I stood in front of the cracked mirror that was attached to our wardrobe and tested my shape-shifting ability. At first, I was scared but as time went on I realized that it wasn't a curse or something to fear, but a gift.

First, I tried the blonde hair I'd woken up with this morning and found it was relatively easy to conjure up. Next, I tried altering the shade of blonde to a lighter hue. It was harder than I'd expected it to be. I wondered if it was because I was changed a smaller detail of my appearance or because I hadn't 'worn' it before.

"Try me," said Tom, smiling.

"What?" I asked.

"See if you can do a female version of me!"

I imagined Tom's high cheek bones, intense black eyes and soft, shiny dark hair. I examined myself in the mirror, but shook my head.

"Not handsome enough and too masculine." I decided. I concentrated really hard this time. I thought of my chin becoming slightly less pointed, my jaw line softening, my hair becoming longer and straighter… When I'd finished, I was thoroughly satisfied.

Tom stared at my, eyes wide open and mouth agape.

"W-we could be twins! That's amazing, Jo!" he said, coming to stand next to me in the mirror. He was right; a stranger would've looked at us and seen no differentiating features between us other than our sexes. In a way, I was proud to look like Tom. I'd always envied his good looks, and had always wished to be his sister. This was as close as I was ever going to get.

We soon made it into a game; Tom would suggest one of the children or staff members from the home and I would create an exact replica of them. It entertained us until the low, reverberating sound of a gong signaled that it was lunch time. I quickly recalled my own appearance, and walked to the door of our room when Tom called out, "Wait!"

"What?" I asked, my hand on the door knob.

"Take your scarf off."

"Why?" I asked, one eyebrow rising skeptically.

"The other children… they'll get jealous and steal them!" Tom looked at me earnestly and I couldn't help but giggle a bit.

"Don't be silly, the others are far too scared of us to do anything like that. And besides, we have magic powers! We could keep them at bay if they decided to attack us," I said, smiling, as if Tom was being silly.

But Tom wasn't joking around.

"Take your scarf off _now_," he said, the glassy black eyes I loved freezing over and becoming cold as ice.

"No," I said, defiance creeping into my tone. I wasn't going to do what Tom said, it was foolish. He had no right to command me in such a way.

"Jo…" He said warningly. "I want you to take your scarf off." His voice was low and his eyes flashed furiously. I admit I was scared senseless, but I still held my ground. Backing down was not something I was used to.

"And I said no. I want to show it off," I said, stroking it gently with my free hand (the other still held the door knob).

Tom's face pulled into a nasty sneer. "Fine," he spat, and I expected him to do something, hit me, yell at me, anything. The silence he gave me instead was horrible. It made the room hot, as though I was slowly burning.

But it wasn't all over I was burning. I noticed this now as I thought about it more clearly. In fact, it was just in one particular place I was scorching.

The hand that was clutched to the door knob. The hand I now couldn't move from its clasped position. The hand that was now slowly blistering from an intense and unbearable heat that was now radiating from the door handle.

I gasped in pain, wrenching at my fist trying to pry it free. But my fears were realized: my hand was going to stay put until it was charred to a crisp.

I glanced around the room to search for the reason why my hand was trapped, and was shocked to find Tom staring, brow furrowed, at me and the door.

"Tom!" I pleaded. "Please! You're hurting me!" My chin trembled violently and tears fell in torrents from my eyes. Tom, however, was dead to my cries.

"Take off the scarf, Jo," he said calmly.

"Yes! Yes, I promise! I'll do anything!" I sobbed. "Just please, let me go!" Tom briefly closed his eyes, then opened them again, a stony expression on his face. I immediately felt the invisible glue holding my hand in place fall away, and I stumbled backward as quickly as possible.

"That was your fault," Tom said softly. "You shouldn't have made me do that."

"How can you say that?" I sobbed, brandishing my hand at him. Angry red blisters and welts scarred the surface of my skin. Pain throbbed down my arm. Tom gazed at it indifferently.

"Change yourself so it looks uninjured. You don't want Sister finding out, do you?"

I shook my head, and focused on my hand healing. When I looked back down again, it appeared as though the whole incident had never happened, but when I gingerly brushed where the wound had been with my fingers, sharp, stinging pain rippled around my entire forearm.

Tom regarded my handiwork, smiling. He removed my scarf from around my neck and folded it up neatly. He placed it next to his on the bottom shelf of our wardrobe. All the while, I remained perfectly still, scared witless. Tom straightened up and started talking, without turning around.

"I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. Never forget that." I swallowed, my dry throat able to force out a couple of strangled words.

"I won't."

"Good," he said, swiveling round and grinning warmly. "Now, let's go down to lunch." He took my bad hand and half-dragged me out of the room.

**AN/ Phew! Well this was longer than expected! Siriusly, this is the longest chapter I have ever written. I hope you take your time to thank me by reviewing. If you don't… I'll send Axel to come and get you. While you sleep. Wait, no, that's a good thing… Okay, Marluxia. Or Saix. Or both. Just… review, okay? XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:// I just realized I didn't name the last chapter. Oops. I guess I'll do it now. It's called… ummm… ****Revelations? Yeah… Chapter Three was called Revelations. Now foar Chapter Four. Err. Yeah…**

**I'm not JKR. I'd probably have published this, if I was. And no one would be very happy with me. And the main character wouldn't be called Joana. So there.**

-

"_Change yourself so it looks uninjured. You don't want Sister finding out, do you?"_

_I shook my head, and focused on my hand healing. When I looked back down again, it appeared as though the whole incident had never happened, but when I gingerly brushed where the wound had been with my fingers, sharp, stinging pain rippled around my entire forearm. _

_Tom regarded my handiwork, smiling. He removed my scarf from around my neck and folded it up neatly. He placed it next to his on the bottom shelf of our wardrobe. All the while, I remained perfectly still, scared witless. Tom straightened up and started talking, without turning around._

"_I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. Never forget that." I swallowed, my dry throat able to force out a couple of strangled words._

"_I won't."_

"_Good," he said, swiveling round and grinning warmly. "Now, let's go down to lunch." He took my bad hand and half-dragged me out of the room._

-

Chapter Four –

"_How can he do that?" Harry roared. "We've got to get her out! Now!"_

"_Harry…" Hermione began. But Harry had already wrenched the Time Turner round her neck and was about to slip the golden chain around his own._

"_Hey!" Ron yelled. "Back _off_!" The taller boy glared down at Harry, eyes emanating anger. All impulsion left him, and he let his arms fall limply to his sides, the Time Turner clattering as it fell on the floor. Hermione scooped it up quickly and replaced it around her throat._

"_I just… I can't watch him hurt her. How would like it if Ginny was there? Can you imagine that?" Harry whispered dejectedly. Hermione gently took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze._

"_Harry, we know this must be the hardest thing in the world for you, don't you dare say we don't; but you've got to understand that we _need _to do this. The only time we can get her out is when her life is in danger."_

_Harry sighed, defeated. He understood – of course he did – but he still had trouble accepting it. He bit his lip and sank down onto a nearby chair. To his surprise, two warm, salty tears slid down his cheeks. He barely knew this girl; but his emotional attachment to her was so strong, it was as if he'd been with her his whole life. A protective instinct reared up inside him – different to the one he felt with Gin__ny. This was more like the love he felt towards Hermione: the urge to look after her. Like a brother._

"_You know, when this is all over, she's going to be the luckiest kid alive," Ron said, clapping his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You'll be the best big brother ever, I can tell."_

"_Thanks," said Harry gruffly, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry I over-reacted."_

"_S'okay, mate. Like you said, I'd be the same way if it were Ginny." Beside them, Hermione let out a groan._

"_I am so glad it's not Ginny. The two of you would be hopeless to work with!"_

_The two boys gave her sheepish grins, and the three of them laughed…_

The silence between Tom and me was icy and unbearable. I was angry at him, and terrified too, but I needed him to talk to me. I snuck a glance at his pale face that was staring at the wall on the other side of the hall. His eyes almost made me gasp with shock; they were cold, so cold! Normally they held a spark of warmth deep within them that one might miss if you didn't know him well enough, but right now looking into his eyes was like diving into a lake in the middle of winter.

"Tom…" I whispered, regretting opening my mouth the second the words had passed my lips. He cast his wintry gaze over me and I shrunk into my seat.

"I'm sorry, a-about before. I just… It won't happen again," I stammered in an undertone, eyes wide and scared.

"It better not," said Tom calmly. "I'm only trying to protect us, Jo."

"I know."

"Good," he said, smiling. "You haven't touched your lunch. Are you not hungry?"

"Not really… But I'll eat it if you want me to."

"That would be nice," Tom's eyes sparkled with affability. "And by the way… you eyes have gone white. Changing them back would be advisable."

"Oh!" I gasped, redness rising to my cheeks. "Thank you." Tom only smiled in response. We ate the rest of our lunch in silence.

After we'd left the lunch hall, Tom decided we should go and try using some more magic.

"We should go outside where people can't see," he told me, leading the way along the winding, windowless corridors that would eventually take us to the orphanage's back courtyard. Tom and I almost never went there; the four walls that boxed you in once you were in there made us both feel nervous and uneasy. The unusual stillness that hung around was very unnerving – but it also meant that we were unlikely to be walked in on by any of the other children.

The thin, rotting door that separated inside from out squeaked harshly as Tom pushed it open, revealing a cobbled, square area of land. There was a single, dying tree off to one side, whose sparse leaves rustled eerily in a non existent wind. I shivered.

Making his way over to the tree, Tom came to a stop in front of it and hesitated for a moment. I halted just behind him.

"Jo…" he said, twisting around to look at me. "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it could be dangerous." He looked at me with deep concern etched into his face. His apparent anxiousness over my well being made my heart flutter slightly, and I didn't know why.

"No, as long as you're here I'll be fine," I said, inwardly cringing at how cliché I sounded. Tom smiled and chuckled gently.

"Good. Let's try it, then." He slumped back against the tree and I sat down facing him. His dark eyes stared at the sky for a while, and then focused on the wall behind me. "I'm trying to make that wall explode," he said quietly. "Think it'll work?"

"Sure," I grinned, understanding that Tom was joking. He flashed a wicked smile at me, and focused, his eyes storming. I waited patiently, knowing he would give up soon.

Sure enough, he cast his gaze to the floor and sighed.

"Maybe we should start with something smaller," I suggested. Standing up, I snapped two twigs off of the brittle tree above us and placed them on the ground. "We'll try and make them move." Tom nodded, and again become fixated on his target. Following his example, I stared intently at my own.

Thinking it might help, I tried to empty my mind. I thought of nothing of making the twig move; even just making it twitch. I forgot about everything else – the pressing silence, Tom's presence next to me, the cold, hard cobbles underneath me that were making my bum go numb. I forgot about breathing, just mumbling over and over to myself _move, move, make it move_…

…That is, until Tom started laughing. His voice made me lose concentration and I looked up at him, glaring.

"What?" I demanded angrily. In between gasps of laughter, Tom was able to choke out his explanation.

"Y… You… You're g-going purple!"

"What?" I asked again, this time in disbelief. I looked down at my bare arms to see if his words were true – and was embarrassed to find that they were. My arms had undertaken a purpley-blue tinge; not dissimilar to the blueberries Sister sometimes bought us as a treat and the spots found on white shirt went after we'd been blackberry picking.

"Oh…"

Whilst Tom got over his laughing fit, I concentrated on returning my skin to its normal colour. At first, I went too pale and began to panic that I wouldn't be able to turn back. But after a little more effort, I found the right skin tone.

"It wasn't funny," I said through gritted teeth, looking up at Tom who was wiping tears from his eyes.

"I suppose not," he said, holding back snickers. "Let's get back to work, all right?"

I nodded, happy to forget the whole thing. I turned my attention back to my stick, and resolved to not focus quite so hard this time. As I settled down for my second attempt, I felt a warm tingle in my fingertips. It felt powerful, but I wasn't scared by it.

It was as if I had been doing it my whole life. I simply willed the twig to move, and it did.

"Tom! Tom, look! I'm doing it! It's moving!" I exclaimed, my voice bordering on a squeal. "Tom! Tom?"

He wasn't replying. I wanted to find out why, but also didn't want to interrupt my concentration. It was then that a strange odour hit my nostrils.

"Can you smell burning?"

Not being able to bear it any longer, I tore my eyes away from the stick and looked up at Tom. I was shocked by what I saw.

It was Tom, but not the boy I knew. The boy who loved, care for and protected me. This child in front of me didn't look capable of loving anyone or anything. There was fire in his eyes, and evil etched into every inch of his face. The twig was consumed entirely by a violet cascade of flames, burning with enough persistence to be worthy of a log fifty times its size.

The purple bonfire reflected in Tom's eyes, causing them to go a terrifying grey colour. That mixed with his demonic smile created a spine chilling image, and for a moment I was frozen with fear.

"Tom," I whispered, his stormy eyes holding my vision hostage. "Stop."

The boy blinked. The fire went out. He went back to being my Tom.

"Thank you."

"Jo… my Jo-Jo… I…" He started to speak, possibly to issue me with an apology, but was distracted by something over my shoulder. His eyes narrowed and he uttered one word.

"Billy."

I whirled around.

Saw a boy only a few years older than Tom and I.

Knew he had seen the whole thing.

-

**Aaaand that's your lot for now, my lovlies. Let me know what you think, because reviews do help me get loads of work done. Until next time, then! Adieu! :3**

**x**


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